


two. the crimson thread

by 10008



Series: Ashes of Arcadia [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Replay Value AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 10:41:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11553510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10008/pseuds/10008
Summary: Her hands find your face, and she kisses you once more, and the timeline tips past the point of no return.





	two. the crimson thread

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sburb Glitch FAQ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/340777) by [GodsGiftToGrinds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodsGiftToGrinds/pseuds/GodsGiftToGrinds). 



She tastes like skittles and cream and determination and something deep and dark and black, candy sweet and heavy on your tongue, filled with the essence of eager smiles and reckless grins. She presses her heart into your hands, and plunges her own hands into your chest to grab hold of yours. Your arms tremble with the weight of each blow she blocks with it, but nonetheless seize each opening they find, eager to do some damage and not wholly under your own control anymore. And underneath it all you hear the pulse of time running out, and know that if you don't end this now you'll be the one to end, and you get the feeling she senses it too. Her hands find your face, and she kisses you once more, and presses something round and warm into your palm, and you can almost see the insane glitter to her eyes. You reach out a fraction too slow, and the timeline tips past the point of no return. 

You told yourself, long ago, that you wouldn't fall in love, when you first learned the truth of the reward, but you'd thought that, just this one time, you could let someone else guard your heart. What you'd forgotten was that, deep inside, she was a Thief of Heart, not a Guard, and you'd let her make off with that most precious piece of you with no resistance at all.

You clutch her pendant in your hand as Prospit gold booms through your session, and find it a poor substitute for the pulsing light that fades with the "Heroic" toll. Regret washes over you, and you curse yourself for never seeing your own feelings for what they were, locking your heart away as you did and throwing yourself into your visions of Time, blind to the world outside.

You wish you'd told her you loved her.

You wish you'd gotten to see her face.


End file.
